A 2000 year nap
by BigBlueJake
Summary: HUMOR - stand alone. Tried drawing this when it popped into my head, but just couldn't get it right... Cryopods must have extremely good monitoring tolerances, but after 2000 years there just might be...consequences...if something gets a little off. (Rated for foul language.)


HUMOR – 'cuz 2000 years spent on yer back … has consequences.

The small party of human explorers waited expectantly as David 8 studied the cuneiform on the sleep chamber and began pressing symbols.

This was the big reveal, the event they'd hoped for. At least it was for Shaw – to meet humanity's creators, perhaps. And for Peter Weyland, the key to the one thing he coveted more than anything-immortality. Jackson hefted his rifle, ready to intervene, and Ford hovered nervously as Weyland tottered closer to the chamber.

David tapped one last symbol with a flourish and beamed at his master.

The lid retracted – and everything went to hell after that...

"Jeezus -ing Keerriissstttt!" Jackson exploded, nearly dropping his weapon.

Shaw's "Oh, no, this can't be right!" and Weyland's "I came here to meet._..this?!" _came out simultaneously, shortly followed by Ford sputtering "Good Heavens!"

"Oh, my!" David observed primly as he stepped next to Weyland.

The Engineer peeled off his mask, let out a thundering cough and started trying to sit up. Then froze for a moment at something blocking part of his field of view. And let out a foghorn bellow as he scrambled backward against the head end of his chamber.

The holograms they had been encountering and reviewing let the crew know the Engineers were large, imposing creatures. They weren't supposed to be a gray-and-black version of the Michelin Tire Man, though...

"Wot d'ye suppose moost 'ave 'appened to 'im?, " Ford said in a soft voice, craning her neck to peer past Weyland and David.

"You're the medic! You tell us!" Shaw hissed back at her.

"Knew I shoulda brought the goddamned RPG launcher just in case!" growled Jackson. " Bastard won't even notice if I plug 'im with this peashooter!"

The thoroughly mortified Engineer evidently realized he couldn't retreat from his own stomach and refocused his attention to his hands, which at least were alabaster white and normal-looking, but attached to distinctly ham-shaped forearms. His initial shout had subsided to something that sounded remarkably like a pipe organ in bad need of tuning.

"Speak to him, David. Tell him that we came, just like they asked." Old man Weyland wasn't going to be deterred, not at this point.

David turned and began reciting a phrase in what he hoped was a language intelligible to the Engineer.

The Engineer in turn had put one hand on each side of his face and was in the process of confirming that, yes, his cranium was still smooth as a billiard ball, but he'd gotten fat cheeks, extra chins and a stack of rolls around the back of his neck during his snooze.

"Look here you big lout, are you hearing us?" Weyland rasped at the Engineer.

"Sir, you might want to step back a li-" David cautioned , just as it dawned on the Engineer that he wasn't alone.

The Engineer exploded to his feet, snatching David up by his chin and neck, and began shaking the startled android like a terrier with a rat.

What have you done to me!, the giant humanoid roared at full volume in David's face while everyone else cringed, covering their ears. His forward momentum forced the Engineer to step up out of the chamber...

...and trip on the edge when he couldn't get his foot high enough.

Weyland might have seen it coming, but the old geezer didn't stand a chance when the Engineer toppled over and sprawled headlong on the deck, slamming David flat on his back and thoroughly flattening Weyland. Somehow one of the old man's forearms was left sticking out from under the momentarily stunned Engineer. The fingers scrabbled in the air for a few moments, then curled up like a dying spider.

Jackson was all for putting a few rounds into the Engineer's head.

Shaw fended off the angry merc as best she could.

Ford poked the Engineer in the ribs with her toe, muttering something about "...bliddy whale strandin'..." under her breath.

"This really isn't going well at all," David observed dryly to no one in particular as he attempted to pry the Engineer's fingers from around his throat.

Meanwhile, aboard the Prometheus, Meredith Vickers fixed her iciest stare on Janek, Chance and Ravel, and hissed,

"Not. A. Fucking. Word... EVER!..."


End file.
